


Love in Excess

by noctuua



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, F/M, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-27 17:16:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctuua/pseuds/noctuua
Summary: Clementine Burke is a new special agent with the BAU. Top of her class at the academy, she shows great potential but still has a lot to learn. Something about Hotch draws her like a moth to a flame and she can't ignore the feelings that begin to develop. And neither can he.Slow burn between Hotch and OFC/Reader.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing for the Criminal Minds fandom but I'm a long time viewer. I'm hoping to make this a slow burn story, but I've been known to be impatient and I'm not good at dragging things out haha. 
> 
> Just wanted to note: I started out writing this fic in third person, but I'm really rusty and it sounded horrible so I switched to second person. So, the character is Clementine Burke, but also the reader in a way? Honestly, feel free to replace any instances of her name with your own! :-)
> 
> I'll be adding tags and possibly warnings as I go along, but it will eventually be explicit and in this chapter, there are some depictions of graphic violence. 
> 
> I hope I do the characters justice and I hope you all enjoy. Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated!

It’s 8am when you walk into the BAU’s bullpen, the large glass door sliding shut behind you. There’s little activity this early in the morning, a few agents milling about in the tiny kitchenette. Unsure of where to go, you make your way over to the cluster of desks in the centre where a slender man with lanky, brown hair sits reading a book.  


“Excuse me,” you say, clearing your throat to get his attention. “I’m Special Agent Clementine Burke. I’m looking for SSA Hotchner, do you know where I can find him?”  


The man startles at the sound of your voice, his back straightening as he sits up in the chair and squints up at your face. He stands suddenly.  


“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” he replies with a small smile. You reach out and shake his hand.  


“Hotch’s office is just up there,” Reid says, pointing towards a row of office doors towards the back of the bullpen. “He’s not in yet, though, so you should probably just wait around here.”  


The man goes back to reading his book and you step away from his desk to take in your surroundings. Reid’s desk is surrounded by an array of other desks, each with their own messy piles of folders and paperwork. One stands out with a clean surface with no clutter. You walk over to the desk and read the tiny plate displayed on the edge.  


_Clementine Burke._  


You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you take a seat at the desk.  


_Your own desk as a special agent at the BAU in Quantico, Virginia_, you think. _Special Agent Clementine Burke._  


You’re shaken from your reverie by a voice behind you. Turning around, you’re greeted by a tall, handsome man with jet-black hair and dark features. You stand.  


“Special Agent Burke?” He asks, sticking out his hand. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, it’s a pleasure to have you on our team.”  


Grasping his hand, you give it a firm shake.  


“Thank you for having me, sir,” you reply with a smile. He returns it and then gestures behind him.  


“These are Agents Prentiss, Morgan and Jareau. Garcia here is our technical analyst and it looks like you’ve already met Agent Reid.”  


You greet the others with a smile and a small wave.  


“Please,” you say, “you can call me Clementine. I’m looking forward to working with you all.”  


Hotch heads towards his office, file in hand, and closes the door behind him.  


Taking your seat again, you chat with everyone as they settle at their desks. The agents are friendly and keen to get to know you.  


Around 10, Hotch calls the team into the debriefing room. Last to enter, you close the door behind you and take a seat between Morgan and Prentiss.  


“Agent Burke,” says Hotch. “This is SSA David Rossi. Dave, this is Clementine Burke, our newest member.”  


You lift from your seat to shake Rossi’s hand. The man is older with kind eyes and a gentle face. He smiles.  


“Looking forward to working with you, Agent Burke.”  


The team has been invited by Jacksonville PD to help them find a serial killer who’s begun to kill again after 10 years of laying dormant. Having killed six brunette women between the ages of 24 and 27 in the span of just a few weeks, the police feel they need the FBI’s help finding the unsub. Hotch ends the meeting and orders everyone on the jet within the next half hour.  


You sit next to Aaron on the plane. He’s quiet throughout the journey, interjecting occasionally as the team discuss the case. Despite his serious demeanour and permanent frown, something about Hotch lets you know you can trust him. He’s calm and seems level-headed, always thinking logically. Although he comes off as impassive and emotionless, you believe Hotch is actually quite the opposite. Aaron Hotchner is a leader, he maintains his composure even at the worst of times. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you, but you can’t help the heaviness in your stomach every time you look at him. He’s incredible.  


When the team lands in Florida, Hotch sends JJ, Prentiss and Reid to the local station, Morgan and Rossi to speak with the most recent victim’s family and he takes you with him to see a man named Joseph Proctor.  
_______________________________  


Joseph Proctor was convicted of four murders right before the killing had stopped 10 years ago. While initially Proctor had been brought in as the main suspect, it was later determined that he was the partner of another unidentified man. A narcissistic, attention seeking ephebophile with a penchant for brunettes, Proctor never revealed the name of his accomplice.  


The man sits at a linoleum table in a prison interrogation room. His hair has greyed during his time in confinement and he’s grown a long, scraggly beard. You feel his eyes on you the second you and Hotch enter the room. You meet his gaze and don’t look away as you take the seat next to Aaron across the table from Joseph.  


"Well ain’t that the prettiest face I seen in long time,” Proctor murmurs, running his tongue luridly over his bottom lip. You don’t react.  


“Joseph, we’re here to talk to you about the recent murders,” says Hotchner.  


Proctor chuckles.  


“I’d rather talk about her,” he replies, gesturing towards you with a nod. “There’s about a million things I’d like to do to you, baby.”  


“That’s enough,” Hotch says, his voice cutting and stern. “If you’re going to waste our time, we’ll have you sent back to your cell. This is your chance to help us.”  


“You smell real good, baby,” Proctor ignores Hotchner, straining against his handcuffs to lean in your direction.  


“Like lavender and,” he pauses to sniff at the air, eyes sliding shut, “jasmine.”  


Hotch begins to stand from the table but you place a gentle hand on his arm.  


“It’s okay, Hotch. I can take it,” you say, glancing up at him. He looks at you briefly before sitting back down.  


“I bet you can,” Proctor replies with a sneer. “I’ll make you a deal, Agent Hotchner. If you let me get a sniff of this beauty’s hair, I’ll answer any questions you have.”  


“That’s not how this is going to work,” says Hotch. You can hear the impatience rising in his voice. “You’re going to tell us everything you know and I won’t have your privileges revoked.”  


Proctor smirks and leans back in his chair, arms crossed.  


“Deal,” you say, looking Proctor in the eye. A predatory grin spreads across his face.  


“Agent Burke,” Hotchner starts but you stop him again.  


“I don’t mind. We need to find out as much as we can,” you say. You both look at Proctor expectantly.  


“The man you’re looking for is Ben Harmon.”  
_______________________________  


As Proctor finishes talking, you and Hotch get up to leave. Hotch opens the door and gestures for you to go through, but you pause when Proctor shoves out of his seat, the handcuffs clanking loudly as he strains against them.  


“Agent Burke, don’t forget our deal,” he growls, teeth bared.  


“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you smile sweetly and exit the room with Hotch close behind you.  


“Sorry, Hotch,” you apologise once you’re out of the room. “I hope it didn’t seem like I was over stepping.”  


Hotch looks at you for a moment. “Don’t be, we got the information we needed. You did a great job in there, Burke.”  


You shoot him a smile and head towards the car.  
_______________________________  


It takes two weeks and two new victims for the team and the police to find a lead regarding Harmon’s whereabouts. He’s been torturing them in an empty warehouse owned under one of his alias’. You’re with Prentiss when you get a call from Rossi stating that Harmon’s been located and to meet SWAT there. When you arrive, everyone’s ready to go and you enter the building. You and Prentiss cover the back entrance with a small SWAT team while the others go through the front.  


As you enter a new hallway, the door slams behind you, the noise echoing as darkness envelopes you. You can hear Emily pounding on the metal as she shouts your name. A single light flickers on further down the hall and you creep towards it, gun raised.  


You feel the sharp sting of a knife slicing across your shoulder before you realise that Harmon is coming at you from behind. He’s too close for you to shoot and you take a couple steps backwards trying to put some distance between the two of you. The man snarls, lunging forward with his knife. Before you can move out of the way again, the blade sinks into the flesh of your hip and you scream in pain, teeth clenched. With the man so close to you, you head butt him hard and hear the satisfying crunch of cartilage as the impact vibrates through your skull. You ram your shoulder into him causing him to stumble back and you raise your gun quickly, shooting him three times in the chest before he falls to the ground in front of you.  


A door to your left is kicked open suddenly and the adrenaline pumping through your blood causes you to jump, fists clenching around your gun. You swing around quickly, eyes wide and heart racing. Your breath rattles through you. Hotch approaches cautiously, holstering his gun.  


“Burke, you’re okay. It’s Hotch,” he speaks slowly and calmly. Your body tremors. Hotch reaches up slowly, his warm hands closing around yours and lowering them towards the ground before grabbing the gun. You let out a slow breath and look up at him.  


“It’s okay,” he repeats. “You’re okay.”  
_______________________________  


You sleep for most of the plane ride back to Quantico. The knife wound, while painful, is shallow and won’t require too much aftercare. Back at headquarters, Prentiss and Garcia invite everyone for drinks. After the long two and a half weeks away and a gnarly new scar, you decide you deserve a drink and the others seem to agree. 

Hotch agrees to meet everyone after he’s finished his paperwork.  


It’s nice to see everyone in a more relaxed setting. You hadn’t had much time to get to know the others while in Florida, but they’d all been overwhelmingly friendly and welcoming. While you’re all exhausted, you relish the opportunity to let loose, if only for an evening. You can already tell you’ll fit in well with your new team.  


A few hours in, Hotch joins the group. Everyone’s already a few drinks in and you can feel the light blush that spreads across your cheeks, taste the alcohol that’s burned its way down your throat. Penelope, Morgan and Emily have moved towards the dance floor while JJ and Rossi are waiting at the bar for more drinks. Hotch sits next to you, sipping a beer and watching the rest of the team. Even when he relaxes, you think, he remains vigilant and protective of his colleagues.  


“It’s different from how it feels during the practice runs,” you blurt suddenly. Hotch turns to look at you.  


“I mean, shooting a target is nothing like shooting a person, even if that person is a murderer,” you wet your lips and look down at your hands clasped around your drink. The flesh tingles, numb from the alcohol.  


“You get used to it,” Hotch murmurs, expression softening. “Whether or not that’s a good or bad thing.”  


“I know,” you sigh. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the kudos!! It’s always nice to know that at least some people are reading my fic :-) I’m going to try to update as frequently as possible/finish this quickly, but I have some other stuff I’m working on so please bear with me!

The next week following the Florida case goes by slowly. You spend most of your days sitting with the other agents, learning about the work that they do when they’re not assigned to a case. Rossi even takes you to a couple of his lectures and gives you tips on speaking to large groups. Public speaking has always been something you knew you needed to work on. 

You spend an afternoon with JJ who explains how she prioritizes the requests that the BAU receives. You’re fascinated by the amount of profiling she needs to do in addition to her role as communications liaison. You envy her resilience and ability to remain logical despite all of the horrible files she has to sift through every day.

Prentiss, JJ and yourself eat lunch together in Penelope’s office whenever you’re able to. You’ve never had a group of girl friends that you were close with, but they’re so easy to get along with, they definitely don’t make it difficult. You learn about JJ’s relationship with Will and their battle with long distance. It’s incredible, you think, that they love each other so much they’re willing to brave the risks that come with dating someone who doesn’t live in the same place.

Emily is like a closed book, but she hides it well; you can never really tell exactly what she’s thinking. She gives you just enough information about her personal life to make you think that you’re getting to know her, but you can’t be fooled. She has trust issues and you get that. You don’t blame her for a second and you take what you can get.

Garcia has become almost like an older sister to you, one of the most kind, caring and generous people you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. She always makes sure that you’re involved in what’s going on, whether it’s to do with work or otherwise. These women have become your friends, people you trust and look up to, in such a short amount of time. 

You’re grateful for how hard everyone has worked to help your integration within the team. Morgan like an older brother, Reid a friend and Rossi a father. You don’t have a big family and have a strained relationship with your parents. They divorced when you were young and were always both very absent. You’re afraid of getting too attached, but you can feel this team becoming like your family. Your mismatched, eccentric and strangely lovable family.

You’ve always considered yourself a strong person, resilient, someone who copes well under stress. But your experience in Florida shook you, unlocked something deep inside that you’re trying desperately to put back in its cage. 

Every night, you dream about Ben Harmon. You see the twinkle in his eyes as he lunges towards you with a knife, the vicious snarl etched across his face. You feel his hot breath burn across your skin, can smell the stale stench of tobacco. Every shot you fire at him flies straight through him and he doesn’t budge, just keeps stumbling towards you. Each night you wake up in a cold sweat. It takes you hours to fall back asleep. 

Figuring it might help, you begin visiting the shooting range every morning. Practice makes perfect, you think. It takes a couple days for your hands to stop shaking whenever you pick up your gun. You don’t tell your team because you don’t want them to worry.

It’s a rainy Thursday morning when you run into Hotch, although you’re not sure it’s a coincidence.

“Have you been coming here often?” He asks, the permanent furrow in his brow just a tad deeper than normal. You look down at your gun, lashes brushing delicately against the apples of your cheeks. 

“My aim has always been my Achille’s heel,” you respond, a sheepish grin on your face. You turn back towards your gun and reach towards it. It takes everything in your power to ignore the shiver rolling up your spine, to steady your hands as you grasp the gun and raise it in front of you. You take a few deep breaths in and out in an attempt to slow your heartbeat. 

_In through the nose, out through the mouth._

You can feel Hotch’s eyes boring into you. You pull the trigger.

You manage hit the target in the chest and abdomen 4 times before you stop. As you go to place the gun back on the table, you feel Hotch step closer to you. 

“Bring your right foot back more,” you hear him say through your ear muffs. Heeding his instructions, you shift the placement of your right foot. 

“Now relax your shoulders away from your ears and adjust your grip.”

You try to do as he says and aim your gun at the target again. Your next shot is closer to the center of the target’s head, but not close enough. A sigh of frustration falls from your lips and you roll your shoulders back, tilt your head side to side and feel a satisfying crack in your neck. 

You feel Hotch take another step closer.

“May I?” He asks. Without looking back at him, you nod.

Hotch reaches his arms around you and repositions your hands. His fingers are gentle yet sure, they know what they’re doing. Your skin tingles beneath his. You can feel his body heat through his shirt and you’re enveloped by a sense of security. The scent of Hotch’s cologne washes over you, a mix of spice and oak. You try to clear your mind and rid yourself of the thoughts flooding your mind. He steps back, hands leaving yours and suddenly you feel empty. You aim at the target.

_In through the nose, out through the mouth._

You pull the trigger. The bullet pierces through the target, straight through its bullseye. Placing the gun down on the table, you turn excitedly towards Hotch, a smile spreading across your face. 

“Thanks, I never thought I’d get it,” you say, breathless and eyes shining. A small smile graces Hotch’s features and he nods his head. 

“You know, your first kill is always hard,” he says knowingly, voice low.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” you reply, taking off your gear. “Just figured I should practice a bit.”

He watches you warily, unconvinced.

“I’ll see you back at the office,” you say hurriedly, grabbing your things and leaving the range. Hotch watches as you go.


End file.
